


Bleed

by writingandchocolatemilk



Series: PruHun Oneshots [1]
Category: Hetalia: Axis Powers
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-04
Updated: 2016-11-04
Packaged: 2018-08-28 23:19:12
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,075
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8466811
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/writingandchocolatemilk/pseuds/writingandchocolatemilk
Summary: Hungary was someone Prussia could throw himself against until she made him bleed.





	

**Author's Note:**

> **Anonymous said :** I'm so happy you're back! If you're feeling up to it could you write some Pruhun? Honestly I'd love to read anything from you: Spamano, Gerita, whatever u feel like hun xxx

Every town had one. It was usually a bar, or an old gym that went broke, or sometimes just a field with bottles scattered around the edges, around the grass.

Prussia was an expert at finding them. For whatever reason, all his life, he was drawn to fighting.

But of course, no human could match up to him; even when he was barely anything more than a human now, wounds taking too long to heal, coughing up blood for weeks after a kick in the ribs.

Prussia sucked in snot and blood, spat it out. This human was good, fast, but he was getting tired, bouncing on his toes like that. Prussia took the hits, kept his heels on the ground.

Snap, snap, snap, three in a row, right into the kid's face. The kid fell back, stumbled, another punch, a kick in the ribs to keep him down. The kid sucked in air, tried not to cry, and Prussia gave him another kick.

The crowd booed.

Prussia threw up his hands. Wrists taped.

"What?  _What_?" he yelled in German, grin half-feral. "Who's next? Heh?" He cackled, voice rasping. "Who's next?!" he shouted, in Russian this time.

He spun in a wild circle, smile turning into a snarl as he saw more and more angry faces. The more disgust he saw in their eyes.

"Who's  _next_?!" he bellowed.

He froze when he saw her.

Hungary stood with her arms crossed, in shorts and a nice top. Her hair was pulled back in a braid.

"What are you doing here?" Prussia asked. His voice got swallowed up in the crowd's murmur.

But she must have heard him. She looked so sad, her eyes soft, a slight disapproving frown. She looked so pretty there, the streetlight gave her a halo, made her hard features soft, the furrow in her brow less disappointment, more concern.

She lowered her hands, and he saw for the first time that her wrists were taped. She stepped forward. Pink sneakers.

The crowd jeered, catcalled, but for Prussia… It was just the two of them standing there as she walked toward him. Shook out her hands, cracked her neck. Her jaw clenched. Something in her changed, and she became an opponent.

Hungary was someone Prussia could throw himself against until she made him  _bleed_.

He snarled and lunged, trying to get the best of her. Left jab, left jab, tried to trip her up.

But she knew him too well. She skipped under the punches, hooked her foot into his.

He stumbled. She cracked him across the face.

Prussia stumbled back, stars dancing across his vision. He stayed away until his head stopped swimming, but Hungary wasn't going to come after him.

She stood where she had before, knees bent, arms up, calm.

Prussia darted forward, fists raised until the last second, then he ducked. He slammed his shoulder into her stomach, and he heard the breath leave her lungs.

But Hungary had been a warrior too, and the reflexes were coming back to her.

Her knee lifted, bumped the bottom of his chin, but he was already rising. He came at her with his right fist, and managed to get a blow in.

Hungary pulled away, trying to give herself space. Prussia came at her again. She kicked out, slammed her foot into his. His foot slipped on the dirt, he lost his balance, he fell forward. She kneed him in the face.

Pain slammed from Prussia's nose to the back of his head. He tasted the blood in his mouth. Felt it sting his eyes.

Felt tears form.

He screamed at her.

Hungary watched him, face still set in that sad way. She  _pitied_  him.

Prussia dug his fingers into the dirt and launched himself at her. He kept himself high, swung his fists at her face, her stomach. Her arms were there before him, hands deflecting his.

Her elbow cracked into his mouth. Prussia felt a tooth snap.

He leaned back, but she was right there again, slapping him on either side of the face. Pain hit him, made him dizzy. Nauseous.

"Prussia," Hungary said, "stop this."

" _Fuck_  you," Prussia snarled.

 

* * *

 

Again and again those fists and elbows slammed into his face.

 

* * *

 

A knock on the hotel door.

"Prussia?"

Prussia stared up at the ceiling. His face was numb. Only his mouth still hurt, but a few more shots of vodka, maybe…

"Prussia? Please, open the door. Your brother was worried about you. I'm worried about you." Another knock. "Come on, I know you'll have some good booze in there. And I'll stitch you up."

Prussia dragged himself off the bed, fumbled with the doorknob, fingers pleasantly drowning in alcohol. He didn't see her come in, collapsed back into the bed. Pressed his nose into the bedsheets, felt bone scrape along cartilage.

Hungary sat down next to him.

Prussia didn't look at her. "How did you find me?"

Hungary sighed. "You have habits. You're spiteful, sometimes. You throw temper tantrums. You want to hurt yourself. It doesn't take a genius to find the local bar brawl. To find you, beating up citizens." Her voice changed pitch. "Come on, roll over."

Prussia did, slowly. "I'm dying."

Hungary pressed gauze against his face, shoved some up his nose. "Well, maybe you shouldn't go looking for beatings and then get drunk. This is going to sting."

"Why?" Prussia asked.

Hungary didn't answer. She pressed gauze and cleaning solutions and anti-biotics into his scrapes, pressed and icepack against his cheekbone.

She took a sip of his vodka.

"Because. That's what you wanted."

Prussia's eyes couldn't focus on her. "Wanted to get beaten up?"

Hungary shrugged. "You wanted me to distract you. And then you wanted to make you feel better. I distracted you, but I'm not going to tell you something we both know isn't true."

Prussia frowned. "How the fuck do  _you_  know what I want?"

Hungary swirled around the bottle, watched the light catch on the waves. "I've known you a long time. I know you're scared."

And then her hand slid into his.

Prussia closed his eyes. "Do you remember when you married Austria? Did you miss fighting with me? Did you die?" His words were slurring. "I don't want to die."

"Shh," Hungary breathed.

The light flicked out, and then Hungary rested her face in the crook of his neck.

He could smell her sweat and perfume. His face stung.


End file.
